


Blood is the currency of the soul

by Vault_Emblem



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hunter Dismas, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Vampire Reynauld, Vampire Turning, in that order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 08:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30120201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_Emblem/pseuds/Vault_Emblem
Summary: Dismas goes to find an old friend with a specific request.
Relationships: Crusader/Highwayman (Darkest Dungeon), Dismas/Reynauld (Darkest Dungeon)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Blood is the currency of the soul

**Author's Note:**

> So, this kinda started from a sentence that came to mind one day, then turned into a simple pwp, and then it kida acquired a bit of plot?  
> I don't know, at this point I'm not in control anymore of what I write.
> 
> Also if you get the reference in the title know that I love you.

The way Dismas’ steps echo through the empty church hall will never stop being creepy, no matter for how many years he’s heard them. That’s something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to.

It’s not that he’s not used to creepy things, not when his job is to hunt down and kill all the monsters that fester the land, it’s just that this is supposed to be a place of worship and light but now it’s cold, dead and abandoned.

It’s such a weird place to be used as a house, especially if you are a vampire.

“Hey.”

He cringes at the sound of his coarse voice; it’s certainly not something that should be heard in a church.

That simple greeting serves to warn the creature living here of his presence, creature that’s hiding behind the altar like he always does.

The first thing he sees are a couple of red eyes peeking from the stone surface, but they’re soon joined by a familiar head and a familiar body.

“Good evening, Dismas,” the creature says. He looks happy to see him, like he always does.

He begins to slowly walk towards him, until they meet halfway through their steps. The creature is imposing, but Dismas knows well that he poses no actual threat, especially to him.

“Good evening,” Dismas echoes him. When the creature steps into his personal space, he doesn’t move away not even an inch, and when he cradles his face in his hands - movements so tender for such a deadly monster - he can’t help but to smile.

“I missed you,” the creature says then, so earnest. Dismas rolls his eyes, though the smile doesn’t disappear from his face.

“You always miss me, Reynauld,” he replies, amused, though despite everything deep down he’s glad about this. It’s nice feeling wanted by someone, even if that someone is a vampire, but well, Rey is a special case.

Dismas still remembers their first meeting quite well, despite having been more than a couple of decades ago already. He was but a novice in the monster hunting business, maybe that’s why he let him live.

Reynauld looked so pitiful as he approached him - and what kind of vampire would voluntarily approach a hunter? - begging to be killed, that Dismas just… He didn’t have the heart to do it.

No matter how much he begged him, Dismas was paralyzed. He couldn’t bring himself to harm him! It was something so weird and unexpected that for a moment he feared that it was all a trick, a way to make him lower his guard, but no: Reynauld was being honest.

That day, he left him where he found him, right there, in that wretched church.

The next day, however, he came back, and the day after again. The creature was still there, barely reacting to his presence if not to ask him to put an end to his life - or unlife, Dismas guesses - but the young hunter still couldn’t bring himself to do it; it should’ve been easy, right? The easiest kill in Dismas’ life, and yet he couldn’t help but to pity this creature who so much wanted to die. Hell, he never even attacked him! He never tried to take his blood despite the fact that he was clearly starving.

Eventually, he did something he knew he should’ve never done, something that goes against everything that had been taught to him: he got closer to the creature, removed one of his gloves and he sliced his wrist.

As soon as the smell of dripping blood hit the creature’s nostril, he recoiled like he’d been hit, crawling away from Dismas and muttering something that he wasn’t able to catch amidst as series of “no, no, no, no”.

“I’m giving it to you,” Dismas said then. Those were his first words towards the creature. “Take what you need.”

The creature made himself smaller on the ground.

“I can’t… No… Light please…” He began to crawl towards Dismas. “… NO!”

Before Dismas could react, the vampire lounged at him, making both of them fall on the cold ground. Dismas tried to move but all he could feel is extreme pain, like someone was sucking the life right out of him.

Then everything went black.

When Dismas came to, first of all he was surprised by still being alive, secondly, he couldn’t believe that he fell for such an obvious trap.

Where was he even… Oh, he was still here.

Just what was exactly that creature’s plan?

He heard the sound of sniffles coming from behind the altar. It must’ve been him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he got up, trying his best to ignore the feeling of nausea that almost made him throw up. This time he didn’t move unarmed, dirk already in hand in case the beast tried some funny shit.

He walked with caution, measuring each step, circling the altar, until he got a view of the creature hiding under it. He was curled up around himself - almost like a baby - and there were crimson streaks across his visage.

Was the beast… crying?

“Hey.”

Immediately the creature’s gaze snapped up, looking at Dismas with incredulous gaze.

“You!” he exclaimed. “You’re alive!”

Weird: even though he was clearly surprised, he hadn’t assumed any defensive position at the reveal. Actually, he even looked relieved.

“I am.”

Immediately the creature pathetically groveled at his feet, blabbering so fast that all Dismas could understand was “forgive me”. Alright, he had gotten enough of this story; he crouched down, putting himself at the same level of the beast, and put his hands on his shoulders, stopping him.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, I forgive you,” he begun. “But what exactly are you?”

“What do you mean?” the creature asked, confused.

“I mean, what happened to you? Why do you act so weird?” Dismas replied. “What kind of vampire begs to be killed, then eats, then asks for forgiveness?”

The vampire didn’t reply immediately; he still looked confused. Maybe, Dismas realized, he didn’t know it himself; it’s rare, but he’d heard tales of certain victims that don’t end up quite dead as the vampire feeding upon them thought. A mistake in carelessness.

In these situations, there’s only one way to act: grant mercy to the newborn creature and kill it before it can become something dangerous. Still, with what heart could he do that?

He tried his best to appear non-threatening, which might’ve been a bit hard considering that he was still holding his dirk in hand, but whatever, he was never good at this stuff.

“Listen, how about you and I have a chat,” he begins, “You seem in trouble and I might be able to help you.”

He could see the conflict in the creature’s eyes; he was clearly having a hard time deciding what to do. Well, Dismas didn’t blame him: if their positions were switched, he would’ve had a hard time too for sure.

Eventually, however, he weakly nodded.

“If you’re offering, then I suppose I can accept it…”

“Dismas?”

He shakes his head, coming back to the present and - most importantly - to the amused Reynauld in front of him. He looks so different from the first time they met; he looks definitely better: with time he managed to accept his new condition as a vampire, also thanks to Dismas’ help. Dismas has no idea how he manages to balance the nature of his new existence - or un-existence he guesses - and his religious beliefs, but hey, whatever works for him.

“What?”

“You were spacing out,” Reynauld replies, tilting his head. “What were you thinking about?”

“Will you laugh if I say I was thinking about you?”

Reynauld’s smile grows larger at those words; Dismas finds it beautiful. When he closes his arms around his waist, pulling him closer, he rests his hands on his chest in order to keep himself uptight.

“No, but I can say that I’m flattered.”

They kiss, softly, Dismas humming against Reynauld’s lips a reply that is soon forgotten.

Oh, how long it took Reynauld to accept his touch: at first he was too afraid for them to stand close to each other, afraid that the mere contact would be enough for his worse instincts - the one he always tries his best to keep in check - to resurface and take control of him, like when Dismas sliced his wrist to feed him.

With time and experience, however, he managed to keep himself in check, and of the fear that was holding him back there is no trace now.

He can’t help but to roll his eyes when Reynauld pulls him up - an easy feat for him - and takes him to a familiar place, though the gesture is half-hearted at best.

“What would your god say if he saw us defile his church like this?” he teases as Reynauld lowers him onto the altar. Despite still wearing his clothes, Dismas can’t help but to shiver at the cold.

“’My God’, as you call him, has sent you to me, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t honor you the way you deserve,” Reynauld replies, before cutting off any possible reply from Dismas with another kiss.

Yes, in the years they’ve known each other, Reynauld has convinced himself that Dismas is some sort of godsend or some bullshit like that. He’s still unsure of how he feels about it, but he’s figured that, for Reynauld’s sake, he’ll put up with it.

This doesn’t mean that he can’t tease him about it, however. As Reynauld had learned in the years they’ve known each other, nothing is sacred to him, not even religion. It’s a wonder how patient he is with him in this regard; Dismas has always wanted to ask him about it, but each time he decides to do it, he stops himself before any word can leave his mouth. Things have always been like this between the two of them: they talk about their past, but never enough not to sound vague. To be quite honest, it’s one of the things Dismas appreciates more about this relationship: the ability to mind your own business; they both understand that the past is a tricky thing, so why suffer because of it when they can just focus on the present, on each other?

Dismas’ train of thoughts is forcibly interrupted when Reynauld kisses him; Dismas chuckles, keeping him close with his arms around his shoulders, and returns the gesture in kind, parting his lips to sneak his tongue between Reynauld’s, caressing his fangs with it. He’s tempting fate like this, he knows it, but what’s life without risk? Boring, that’s what it is.

He’s rewarded by an animalistic growl from Reynauld, a sound he makes only when the most bestial part of him takes control, and he’s pushed with his back against the altar by the same Reynauld who’s now pressing his body against his, leaving him with no way to move. It’s like Dismas is trapped, and he loves it.

This aggression doesn’t last long, however, and soon they’re back to exchange soft kisses and caresses. Dismas has always liked it when Reynauld goes hard and fast, but lately he’s finding himself enjoying this side of him too; maybe he’s mellowing out with age.

He can’t help but to cringe at that thought. Yes, he’s getting old, while Reynauld…

Dismas has never been one to care about looks. It just never was his priority.

Now, however, he can’t help but to be a little self-conscious about his aging body, about the wrinkles that are starting to appear, at the gray that has begun to pepper his hair, at the loss of muscle mass.

Reynauld is always quick to shut down his insecurities whenever they come up, even when Dismas doesn’t voice them - by now they know each other pretty well, enough to know what they’re thinking.

He always takes his face between his hands, caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs, kissing each and every wrinkle, caressing his graying hair.

“You’re as beautiful as the day we met,” he always says, and what can Dismas do, if not to believe him?

Still, he likes it less and less to be naked in front of him. He doesn’t feel adequate, that’s all: Reynauld’s beautiful, powerful, and he’s not so thin that he might snap like a twig if someone blows his way. How is he supposed to compare?

Things are going to get worse and worse as he gets older, he knows this. On one hand, it’s reassuring to know that Reynauld would never dream to abandon him just because he doesn’t look as young as he once did, but on the other…

They have talked about it once, during a moment of weakness on Reynauld’s part: the pain of knowing that eventually he’ll lose Dismas was too much to bear, and he asked him to allow him to turn him. He begged even, on his knees, something that took Dismas so much by surprise that he couldn’t find the words to say.

After that episode, they never spoke about it again, but as of late Dismas has been wondering, wondering a lot. Most importantly, he’s reached a conclusion, which brings him to the main reason why he’s come here in the first place.

“ _Reynauld_ ,” he calls him in fact, taking his face between his hands. “I want you to turn me.”

He hears the way Reynauld’s breath hitches at those words, how it quivers into something resembling a whine. How much as he thought about this?

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice trembling, despite the fact that he looks eager to do it, he still waits, he still wants to make sure. Dismas loves him so much, though his consideration this time is pretty useless. He nods.

“I think I’ve waited too much…” he mutters then. It was supposed to be a joke, but of course Reynauld takes it seriously.

“We waited until you were ready,” he replies in fact, going back to mouth at his neck. “If you’re worried about your appearance, you should know that--”

“That I’m beautiful as the day we met, I know, you _always_ tell me,” Dismas interrupts him, unable to hold back a cheeky smile that Reynauld immediately kisses away.

Dismas thought that he would’ve gone straight for the turning, but he doesn’t. Actually, Rey’s acting like this short conversation never happened, beginning to tear Dismas’ coat open and then his shirt, kissing every inch of skin he uncovers. It makes Dismas almost forget about it too.

“R-Reynauld!” he manages to mutter however, once Reynauld has unbuttoned his shirt and is not getting comfortable with his head between Dismas’ legs. He raises his gaze to look at the hunter; his eyes are ravenous, but not in the dangerous way, it makes Dismas shiver.

“What?” he asks then. Did he truly forget?

“Didn’t we say…” Dismas begins, but thankfully Reynauld understands immediately what the deal is; so he hasn’t actually forgotten. Good.

“Let me have you as you one last time.”

… As you? What…

“Rey, I’m not going to turn into a monster or something. I mean, you haven’t, so why should I?” Dismas points out. Is there something about the turning process he’s not privy to? Something Reynauld hasn’t told him?

“I know, I know, but…” the other replies, succeeding immediately into calming Dismas down - he doesn’t have to worry about too unpleasant side effects at least - but then he continues. “Let me just have this, please?”

Oh well, if he puts it that way…

“Fine,” he says, but when Reynauld still doesn’t move, he adds: “Are you going to ravage me like the big boy that you are, or are you just going to stand there all night?”

At those words, Reynauld rolls his eyes, though there’s a fond smile on his face. Dismas is about to say something else, but he’s quickly shut down by a kiss.

When Reynauld lowers himself between Dismas’ legs again, the other also sighs for the relief; he’s been building up more and more tension without any way to release it, but now hopefully Rey will put a remedy to that.

He shivers at the light bites Reynauld presses into his thighs; in all the times they’ve known each other, Rey has always tried to keep himself in check when it comes to biting, aware that if he lets go even just one bit, it might lead to some unpleasant situations. This time, however, there’s none of his usual hesitation in the way he covers his skin in red marks.

A moan leaves Dismas’ lips when, once he’s satisfied with his work, Reynauld immediately takes him in his mouth, without any kind of warning. He bucks his hips up, surprised, but Reynauld keeps him still as he begins to suck him off with a speed and vigor that Dismas is now mad that he’s always withheld from him.

Still, he’s ever so careful in the way he moves his mouth, mindful not to brush his tusks against the sensitive skin; not that Dismas wouldn’t like it but, judging by the time in which he came immediately after he had accidentally grazed against his cock, he would like it too much, and Reynauld wants this to last.

Apparently, however, that doesn’t go along with Dismas’ plan, who begins to grind his hips against him, trying to get more.

“Reynauld… Rey, c’mon,” he moans, impatient as ever. Were Reynauld free to move as he pleases, he would’ve shaken his head.

In the end, if he has to be honest with himself, he doesn’t really mind it, quite the opposite actually. He knows he just gives more voice to the most egocentric part of himself, something that he shouldn’t do, but hearing, _feeling_ , how much Dismas wants him is something that he’s come to need the more time they’ve spent together. The thought of someone needing him, still wanting him despite his nature, has kept him from making very displeasing thoughts, and helped him come to terms with the fact that, even if his life has been irredeemably changed, this doesn’t mean that he can’t try to make the most of it, even if he keeps staying hidden from everything and everyone, except Dismas.

That’s why, once Dismas begins to beg, he gives in.

He gets up, already taking care of his pants, lowering them enough to pull his cock free, giving it just a few tugs.

Oh, he can’t wait to be inside Dismas. What? He’s not the only one with an extinguishable desire, even though Reynauld has a habit to hide it; after all, Dismas acts enough for the two of them already, there’s no need for him to give his contribution too.

“Oil… Do you have oil?” he asks before he can do anything though. It makes Dismas rolls his eyes - he’s not made of glass for fuck’s sake - but he guesses he appreciates his care.

“Pocket…” he mutters, reaching for the jacket that Reynauld has left on the altar. After fumbling a bit, he manages to procure himself a small vial of oil, and to offer it to Reynauld. “Here.”

Reynauld takes it, opening and beginning to smear some on his fingers, only for Dismas to stop him.

“There’s no need for that…” he says, making a meaningful pause as the meaning of what he said sinks in. _Oh_ …

“You scoundrel…” Reynauld mutters, though there’s no heat in his voice. He’s smirking, actually. “Did you want me that much?”

“Of course, you old fool,” Dismas replies through gritted teeth. He never liked having to openly admit this kind of stuff, which makes extorting the truth out of him a huge pastime of Reynauld, though he usually has to work harder than this to obtain some resorts; he must be very desperate.

Oh well, it is what it is. There’s something more important to think about, now.

As he pushes his oiled cock against Dismas’ rim, Reynauld can’t help the shaky moans that leaves his lips, not that Dismas is quiet, quite the contrary actually. Yes, they make quite a pair, the two of them, with how loud they are. Good thing they’re in an isolated place, right?

His voice trembles once Reynauld bottoms out, and he tells him to get a move on.

“We don’t have all day!” he says, which, as a matter of fact…

“We do, technically,” Reynauld retorts, although he gently begins to rock his hips back and forth, finding it hard to remain still, not when Dismas is so warm and inviting. He always talks big game about patience and all that bullshit, but then he’s the first one who can’t resist the temptation of a warm body beside his; not that Dismas is complaining of course. Whatever floats his boat.

Frankly, as long as he doesn’t stop moving, he doesn’t care.

Gods damn it, he really isn’t young anymore, not with the shitty stamina he has nowadays, because he already feels close to coming. Thankfully for him, Reynauld isn’t that far off himself, so at least he doesn’t have to be too embarrassed about it, but that’s just because Reynauld gets overwhelmed easily during sex no matter how many times they’ve done it.

“Fuck…” he mutters, gritting his teeth.

“Language,” Reynauld reprimands him, but Dismas doesn’t let him utter another word as he grabs him by the hair and draws him closer for a kiss, clashing their mouth together. For such a big bad vampire, he sure can’t handle a few swear words here and here.

At least he seems to get the message and doesn’t stop pounding into him. Dismas’ back is beginning to hurt, but he sucks it up, not wanting to interrupt the moment. Besides, the pleasure he’s feeling is far greater than the pain.

He has no problems digging his nails in Reynauld’s back, leaving red marks, keeping him as close as he can. It makes Reynauld shiver, but he keeps going. Thanks to his vampiric abilities, besides, those wounds heal quite fast, though Reynauld would lie if he said that he wouldn’t mind if he could be able to wear them for longer, just like Dismas wears his. Would Dismas feel the same way he does if he could see the visible signs of what he’s done on Reynauld’s skin? He can’t help but to wonder, though now he should be focusing on something else, shouldn’t he?

Dismas’ voice echoes through the empty church, filling it with his moans as he comes. It would probably be considered a sacrilegious act if only someone else was there to witness it; hell, Reynauld might’ve thought so at first, but after years of being together he’s gotten more tolerant to it, still without losing his faith, even if for the people who share it he’d be considered a monster. And yet, Dismas can’t help but to think, Reynauld is way more human than some of the people he’s met throughout his life.

“Gods above, I love you so fucking much,” he can’t help but to mutter before he can’t stop himself. He’s usually not one for these kinds of words: he’s more of a man of action, not words. Even when sometimes he says them, it’s mostly in response to something that Reynauld tells him first; sometimes he’s wanted to be the one pronouncing them first, but there’s always something that blocks him, a sense of shame that he’s never entirely gotten rid of, not towards his feelings per se, let’s be clear, but about having to voice them.

There’s nothing of that hesitation this time. He’s saying it with a sincerity that he hasn’t managed to reach since forever. All because of this man in front of him, a man that has become the most important part of his life, the man he can’t live without.

He can’t help but to smile, seeing Reynauld being thrown off his rhythm by that quiet admission, but he soon recovers.

“Me too, Dismas,” he says then, pressing his forehead against Dismas. “I love you too. Dismas… I love you so much.”

He comes. It makes Dismas squirm as he gets filled up, but it’s not unpleasant, not at all. He doesn’t have the time to say anything else that Reynauld’s back to kiss him with a softness that it almost hurts; it _used_ to hurt once, when Dismas was still young and angry at the whole world, but not anymore.

Still, there’s something else Dismas wants, and he wants it now, during this moment.

“Rey, c’mon… I’ve given you what you wanted. Now it’s my turn,” he urges him, eagerly baring his neck to him. This is something that goes against every lesson he’s been imparted in his youth, but the tiny scars that Reynauld’s fangs have left time and time again demonstrate that there isn’t really a risk behind it, not with Rey at least.

However, Reynauld still hesitates. “Are you sure? You won’t be able to go back to how things once where if you do it.”

“I know.” Dismas rolls his eyes. “Just do it already.”

Reynauld kisses him, just a soft peck on his lips, then he bares his fangs. This isn’t the first time this happens, but never with such intent. It sends a shiver down Dismas’ spine.

He leans closer, always closer.

Dismas’ breath begins to itch.

He wonders if he’s making the right choice. What if he regrets it?

Ah, to hell with that. He wants to be happy, and he knows that Reynauld makes him happy. Besides, who would keep him company if he died?

Then Reynauld bites him.

The sharp pain is familiar - it always happens during the biting - but soon Dismas is overwhelmed by a new sensation, something he’s never felt.

He wants to scream his pain out, but his throat burns, just as the rest of his body, and not a sound manages to get out.

It feels like he’s being burned alive. Did someone accidentally start a fire?

He can barely see Reynauld with how clouded his vision is, and he can barely hear him call his name.

It burns and burns and burns and burs…

Until Dismas dies.

It’s like being in a dream.

Dismas feels suspended into a sort of limbo.

He can’t see anything but he _feels_.

His body is changing, and he can’t stop it.

It’s getting colder and colder, almost soothing after the sensation of being burned alive he felt a mere moments ago, or is it more than just seconds? He has no way to precisely tell how much time has passed. For all he knows, it might’ve been centuries.

Then, a pull, towards something that Dismas doesn’t know.

Maybe it’s…

He opens his eyes.

The first thing he sees is the church’s stained glass, or at least what’s left of it.

How long…

Mmh, he’s on the ground; he can feel the cold stone pavement freezing his butt off. When he tries to move, however, he finds himself unable to. At first he fears he’s been tied up, but he soon realizes that the reason is far different from that: he’s being kept in Reynauld’s arms, which are squeezing him so hard that he feels like he’s going to break him.

As soon as he notices that Dismas is awake, Reynauld softens his hold on him. When he turns towards him, he’s smiling, though Dismas can see the faint red marks on his cheeks that indicate that he has cried while he was asleep. Did he think that he had killed him as he cradled his body? Did he think he made a mistake?

“You’re awake…” is all he’s able to say, and Dismas nods. He reaches out for him and rests his hand against his cheek. For once, he doesn’t feel cold.

Actually, now that he pays attention to it, his hands, and therefore his skin, are visibly paler than how they used to be. Does that mean that…

“We made it?” he asks, half-incredulous. Did it really work then? He can’t lie, he’s had his doubts right at the end, but not about the thing as a whole: it’s just that it hurt so much that Dismas thought it hadn’t worked, but apparently it’s part of the experience. “You could’ve warned me about the excruciating pain,” he points out then, without any real bite in his words.

Reynauld’s smile becomes more sheepish as he replies. “To my defends, I don’t remember much of how it felt when I turned…” He rests his head over Dismas’ shoulder and he’s back again to squeeze the life out of him, but hell, he doesn’t mind at all.

A new beginning. New chances. Reynauld.

He can’t wait to get started.


End file.
